Things in Common
by KindaLikeThat
Summary: Ace Merrill is messed up, but so is Gordie Lachance. Ace/Gordie
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Erm... I know I've been gone forever (Sorry.) But, I've brought something! I'm tired of reading slash that's really unrealistic, like it's cute but you just can't see it. I'm attempting the opposite, so help me out with some REVIEWS!**

**Eventual Ace/Gordie Don't Like Don't Read Obviously SLASH**

**Warnings: LANGUAGE**

* * *

><p>When Ace Merrill was just seven years old, he vowed to never <em>ever<em> take after his father. Junior Merrill had never been an affectionate man. He'd drink after work, eat dinner, and make some smart-ass comment to his wife about her cooking or to his son about school or choice of friends. Ace had accepted that, but then it started. He started to wake in the middle of the night to his father's furious shouts and his mother's keens. It got worse as he got older. He'd come downstairs for breakfast, the delicious smell of pancakes, eggs, or sausage wafting through the house. He'd sit down, a huge grin plastered on his face, glad his father had already left for work, and then his mom would turn towards him, a sad little grin stapled on her beautiful, split lips. Even at ten, Ace knew immediately who had done this to his mother. He would be overcome with rage, the smile falling from his face. He spent his school hours thinking about how different he'd be from his dad, how once he was old and strong enough, he'd kick the living shit out of that man.

School had never been his strong suit, but as he grew into his teenage years, his grades dropped almost completely. His mom would tell him all about how he should really just try harder, because education was important, but when he looked at that woman all he saw was a defeated little shell of the pretty lady who'd once been so strong. So he started to hate his mother, too. He didn't know why she put up with his drunk, crazy-ass father. He didn't know why he couldn't protect her better. He'd try and get in between the two when his dad got on his loony-kick and end up on the floor, the blood dribbling from his nose staining the carpet.

"You think you're some hot shot, faggot?" His father would yell, gripping his son's short hair and pushing the boy's throbbing face deeper into the floor. It caused his eyes to water in pain. "Gonna cry? Christ, you ain't good for 'nothin."

Ace hated being home. Out in town, he basked in his bad-boy rep, one that had been established since he was young. He made sure it remained intact. He did anything to forget about what lay at home, and in his head all the little things he did to rebel were little lashes at his no-good dad. He'd fuck, drink, smoke, play baseball with mailboxes, bully little kids, and pull out his switchblade when he deemed it necessary. He loved girls. Or at least he liked the sex with them. Ace Merrill wasn't one to get attached to anyone. He slapped a chick once, after she gave him a hard time about screwing another girl behind her back. Afterwards, he puked up the whiskey and wished someone would come along and give him what he deserved, the beating of a life time. He hated that he was so much like his father.

When he was fifteen, he acted on curiosity. They tell you it's wrong, disgusting, and plain fucked up, but that was what he was, right? Couldn't resist the chance at such disastrous rebellion, and besides, he'd been wondering what it'd be like for a while. So experimentally, he fucked Eyeball Chambers. It wasn't what he'd expected at all. Eyeball was muscle, sharp edges, and strength. Ace definitely preferred soft curves, breasts, makeup, and long hair, but there was no denying he enjoyed his little trial. Of course, he wasn't some candy-ass so the last thing he'd allow to happen was this incident to be spilled so the town would come running to lynch the town flamer. It was a secret between him and Eyeball, and sometimes when he was really drunk and Eyeball was there like he always was, they'd misstep. But being the town rejects, why should they give a shit? Besides, it was just experimentation.

Ace was sixteen when they heard about the search for some kid's body in the woods by the train tracks. Charlie and Billy came running about the news. The gang jumped at the chance to be in the papers, to have some glory. Only it didn't happen. This little group of fags found it first. It was Eyeball's younger brother, the little brother of the town's late super-star, the crazy four-eyes Duchamp, and Billy's little bro. They were like twelve, and when Merrill and the Cobras came in the old Ford to pick up the body, Tessio and Duchamp went running. Ace pulled out his blade and made some threats, but Gordie Lachance just stood there, hard and detached look in his big eyes, and cocked the gun in his hand. Sure, he had Chambers to back him up, but he would have stood there aiming that thing at Ace even if he'd been alone. That was what caught Ace Merrill's eye.


	2. Chapter 2

"All I'm saying is, you don't gotta overcompensate," Eyeball said as he lay in the full heat of the sun on the hood of the car, his eyes hidden beneath aviators.

Ace sat beside him, head down as he focused on whittling away on a piece of scrap wood. A thin sheen of sweat shone on his face, which was a little red with sunburn. He was clearly agitated, as exemplified by the quirk in his mouth and the knitting of his pale eyebrows. "'Overcompensate?' You been reading the dictionary, Einstein?"

Eyeball sighed slightly, but didn't seem too perturbed. This was Ace Merrill he was trying to talk to. He was used to it.

The other two main members of the rag-tag gang were sitting not more than a few yard away, in the meager shade cast by a couple of old rat-rods, one had somehow managed to ram up the front of the other, seemingly unstable. Ace was just waiting for the top one to topple over in the breeze and crush Billy and Charlie, who were carrying on some dumbass conversation about pinup models. Not that Ace didn't appreciate the exquisite female body posing seductively in a skimpy swim suit for the masses of males in their adolescence, twenties, and beyond, he just wasn't in the mood to hear those idiots jabber on and on. Plus, he had to deal with Eyeball suddenly wanting to discuss feelings and such. Christ, what a homo.

He glanced at his companion, relaxing like it wasn't almost a hundred and ten degrees outside. Eyeball wasn't burning, just tanning. Ace couldn't darken to save his cheap-ass life. He made an irritated noise in the back of his throat, and threw the butchered piece of wood, where it hit the rusty door of an abandoned Dodge with a clank. The others glanced at him, but knew better than to ask questions. Ace sat there miserably. It didn't get this freaking hot last summer. Last summer…

Ace bounced off the car and picked up the old metal bat laying in the grass and dirt, left there from when they'd been using it to hit their empty beer bottles. Glass was littered all over the ground. Eyeball sat up slowly, watching Ace, waiting for him to possibly collapse due to a heat stroke. Really, was the guy planning on baseball in this weather?

"C'mon, pussies, you plan on sitting around all day like a bunch a girls?"

xxx

Gordie Lachance had known for a little while then that he was a little queer. That is, if a little can translate to totally. He hadn't confided in anybody except Chris Chambers, his best friend. You see, the Chambers family might've mainly produced drunks and criminals, but they also bore great BFFs. Anyway, he'd started to realize it in the last year or two, as he grew into his preteen years and puberty began to take hold of his body. First it had just been the absence of any aversion to that sin they call "homosexuality." People can talk shit all they want, but as many times as Gordie had heard whispers of the harmful nature of such a thing as a man being with another man, he couldn't bring himself to actually be sickened by the thought. Of course, "homo," "fag," "queer," and, "cocksucker," all still held the same charm as far as insults go, like when you call someone retarded without meaning anything towards true handicaps, or when a lesbian calls a friend, "dyke."

Once he got into Junior High, shit changed. First of all, he wasn't the only guy going through some changes. Girls had started their transformation already, so while guys were astonished by the chicks they grew up with suddenly having tits, Gordie noticed that some of the boys in his grade were slowly but surely filling out, their bodies developing and their voices deepening. Second of all, he got a free front row seat to all these goodie bags because in Junior High, you had the P.E. Boys Locker Room. None of his four friends were in his physical education class, which totally blew, but there _was_ Johnny Hart. He was one of those guys where you already knew they were gonna grow up to be the High School football star, Homecoming King, and local chick magnet. Kind of like Denny, only with a douchebag personality. Even though his brains and kindness were lacking, at thirteen, he was pretty fit. He had that rare definition to his muscles for someone his age, where Gordie was still as thin as a rail and his voice was cracking. He didn't mean to, really. He just couldn't help it. His eyes would be inevitably drawn to Hart's biceps, down his neck to his clavicle, over the contours of his back. At first he was confused. He didn't really understand. Perhaps it was just a phase. Maybe he was just really weird.

Gordie pushed it to the back of his mind for a while. He didn't want to think about it. It was just small-town living in 1960. But then, _it_ happened. And by that, I mean Julie Grasshover. She'd been giggling, blushing, and trying to start up conversations about shit he really didn't care about. Then she wanted to hang out after school. He was really not thrilled about the idea of hanging out with some carrot-top girl, but Chris was busy and Teddy and Vern had become a little distant, despite all. So he reluctantly agreed, and as they walked awkwardly on the sidewalk in late spring, she kissed him. Needless to say, he didn't enjoy it. He pushed her away, and she looked confused, like she couldn't understand why someone wouldn't be attracted to her. He made some dumb excuse, and offered to walk her home. She declined, and stomped the rest of the way home herself. Later that night Gordie made a face in the bathroom mirror, thinking about Julie Grasshover, and scrubbed his mouth thoroughly, trying to remove the feeling of Julie's tongue from his mouth.

After that, Gordie told Chris. His best friend didn't blow up, and in fact took it pretty well, which was a huge burden taken off of Gordie's shoulders. As long as Chris could accept him, he would be alright. He wouldn't even think of telling his father or his mother, but Chris knew what it was like to be outcasted for something you couldn't help. Of course, it could be a little awkward sometimes. After all, Chris was just a completely straight teenage boy. Gordie would listen patiently as Chris went on about how he totally got to second base with Rebecca Walters. Realizing Gordie was probably feeling a little weird, because he was, you know, queer, he'd awkwardly say something like, "So…so, how about you? See any…guys?" And they'd both blush bright red at the blundering attempt as Gordie shook his head quickly, signaling the negative. But honestly, nothing changed a whole lot. They were still best friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

xxx

Gordie was alone when he walked to the corner store to pick up some milk for his mother, who had briefly requested that he go get her some after she realized she was nearly out. He walked the less-than-ten-minute trip to the heart of Castle Rock and was relieved when he got inside the store, where it was slightly cooler. It felt like an oven outside. He wondered if he'd be able to make it home with the milk still cold. His mom must really be spacing lately, unaware of her surroundings. You'd think after more than a year, she'd have gotten at least a little better. But no, his parents were just as devastated over Denny's death and dissatisfied about being left with Gordie.

Looking at the price and then at the money his mother had given him, he did simple subtraction in his head. He'd have enough for a Crunch bar. He grabbed the carton of milk, then the candy, and paid for it at the register. As he was about to leave, the Cobras walked in.

"Oh, look who it is!" Ace said sarcastically, his lips twisted into a sneer. "Lachance. Where's your boyfriend, _Gordie?" _Eyeball grinned at the accusation aimed at his brother and this little pussy who'd held Ace at gunpoint last year.

Ace, who had just finished a game of mailbox baseball and was happy with victory, sauntered up to the shorter boy, who looked up at him with disdain.

"Go fuck yourself." He thought about the time Chris had called Ace an asshole and had been shoved against the concrete and had a cigarette held threateningly close to his face until he took it back, and about how Ace had said they wouldn't forget that Ray Brower standoff.

Ace grinned wider and said calmly, "You ain't got no cock-knocking friends here to back you up, Lachance, and no gun to point at me, so if I were you I'd best watch it."

"Hey!" The bearded cashier said, looking on warily, "Take it outside!"

"That sounds like a great idea," Ace said, and Gordie found himself ushered outside, where he was cornered against the red brick wall. The sudden heat was overwhelming, and the blonde easily knocked the milk carton out of his hand. It fell to the ground, thankfully staying intact.

"Hey, c'mon, man! What the hell?" Gordie fumed. Ace snatched the Crunch bar from his hand, causing another explosion of words from the brunette.

Merrill leaned in close, unwrapping the chocolate and taking a bite. "What did I tell you, Lachance? Hm? I told you I wouldn't forget that little stunt you pulled. But, I think I'll save it for when I catch you _and_ your faggot boyfriend."

Gordie couldn't stop himself. He just had to make that smart-ass remark. "Aw, that's cute. You and Eyeball wanna double date?"

He inhaled sharply as he felt the knee in his stomach. He cluched his belly, willing the pangs to subside. He watched with animosity as the blonde calmly lit himself a cigarette.

"I _will_ be seeing you around, kid." With that, the gang passed him to enter the store, but not before Ace crushed the milk carton with his booted foot, splashing the white liquid all over the pavement.

Gordie stood there a moment. He had no more money, and nothing to show for what he'd spent. His mother _might_ just notice that.


	3. Chapter 3

"Who the hell do you think you are? Think you can come 'round only when it suits you? You ain't grown yet, you little shit! How d'you think your mama likes it when you only show up for food and then take off without so much as a 'hello'?"

Ace Merrill stopped in his path to the front door and whipped around sharply to face his father.

"Oh, don't you go fucking acting like you give a rat's ass about her feelings, you old bastard!" he replied with a sneer. He grabbed his keys off the small end table by door and made to turn and leave.

"The fuck did you say to me, boy?" Junior Merrill hissed, grabbing his son by the shoulder and jerking him around. "Don't you think I won't mess the other side of your face up, too."

Ace just gave his father another stinging glare and shoved the older man away before letting the screen door slam behind him as he jogged out towards his old Ford. He ignored the old coot's hollering as he slid the key in the ignition and sped out of the cracked driveway as the engine could turn over.

He caught his reflection in the rearview mirror as he drove and quickly looked back at the road. His left eye was ringed in purple bruising, and it wasn't the first time his father had left marks on him. Round cigarette burns dotted his back beside the thin scars from belts that had drawn blood. At least this one would be temporary.

* * *

><p>"I'm going out!" Gordie yelled to no one in particular as he bounded down the stairs two at a time. His hand was on the door handle when he heard his father's voice from the kitchen doorway.<p>

"To do what?" the man asked, standing there with that same vague emptiness in his eyes that had been there since the previous year's April.

"To hang out with Chris," Gordie said flatly.

The man grimaced. "I thought you'd have found other people to associate with by now."

Gordie tried not to grind his teeth. "Yesterday you told me I needed to get outside more."

"So instead of locking yourself in your room for weeks on end you fraternize with trash?" The older Lachance shook his head and looked away. "Denny was never like this," he remarked, his voice edged with frustration.

Gordie didn't reply, just opened the door and closed it behind him with a lot more force than necessary. A very small part of him expected his father to call him back and tan his hide for slamming the door, but there wasn't a noise besides the crunch of dead grass beneath his sneakers.

By the time he reached town his hair was slightly damp with sweat and his navy t-shirt and jeans were clinging uncomfortably to his skin.

He passed the corner store and started across the road when he looked to his right and saw Ace Merrill pressing some blonde chick up against the door of his car. She was giggling and twirling a lock of hair around her slim fingers. Ace shifted slightly and ended up looking directly in Gordie's direction. The black eye blooming around his eye became visible and Gordie swallowed under the boy's heavy, scrutinous gaze. Gordie had the sense that under Ace's ruthless composure there lay something much more volatile. Gordie hoped the older boy wouldn't take this an opportunity to bust his ass, what with the tart hanging on him. The girl wound her arms around Ace's neck, and after another long moment of eye contact Ace finally looked away. The couple disappeared from Gordie's view behind the brick walls of the town hardware store and Gordie continued down the street, shoving his hands in his pockets and trying hard to keep his mind peacefully blank.

Though Gordie hadn't seen Vern or Teddie in months, and even for Chris it had been awhile, Chris and Gordie still clung to comforting, familiar things like the treehouse and the secret knock that gave them access to it. It would be easy to say that the Ray Brower incident started some sort of chain reaction or marked some important shift in their lives. It had, in a way, but things are never that easy. There was Denny's death and the milk money ordeal and Teddy's ear against a stove burner. There was Gordie always inferior to Denny and Chris stuck in a life he desperately wanted to escape. The slow drag of small town life, gangs, switchblades, and .45 caliber pistols.

So Gordie tapped out the secret knock on the door and Chris let him up. Chris pulled out a cigarette from the pack he normally kept rolled up in his shirt sleeve and lit it with a match from a weathered casino matchbook. Gordie watched him inhale, lips taut around the butt before they slackened and the pale smoke snaked from his mouth in thick tendrils.

"Want one?" Chris asked as he shuffled the deck of cards.

"Sure," Gordie replied, pulling a cigarette out of the pack lying on the table. The nicotine offered a pleasant, small buzz and Gordie was glad for it as he looked at the hand he was dealt.

* * *

><p>If there was anything Ace knew for certain at that moment, it was that he should definitely <em>not<em> be thinking of Lachance as he scraped his nails over the soft, bare flesh of the girl laid out in front of him.

Her name was Madeleine, if his memory served, and she was nice, albeit a bit clingy. She was belly-up in the backseat of his Ford in nothing but her pantyhose and heels, taking Ace's thrusts with soft, high-pitched whimpers that went straight to his dick. He wondered what she'd do if he pulled out his switchblade and sliced her skin with it. He wondered what Lachance would do if he got him alone long enough to carve sweet nothings into his skin. He wondered if Gordie would still have that precious conviction and resignation in his voice and the hardness in his eyes that made it nearly impossible for Ace to think straight.

* * *

><p><em>AN: It's been a long time, I know, I'm sorry. I'm not too fond of the first two chapters of this fic anymore, but I adore this pairing so I came back to this story. Ultimately I'm looking for reviews. I want to be a better writer, so please be critical if you will and let me know if something's off. I'm going to try and eventually edit the first two chapters, but it might not be anytime soon. _


End file.
